


Denial

by aruarudayo



Series: The Five Stages of Grief [1]
Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Blood, Gen, Mild Gore, a documentary by aruchyan, everything is sad and everything hurts, possibly canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2691038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aruarudayo/pseuds/aruarudayo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the facts lead to one conclusion, but he isn't about to admit it. Or, Hiro finds Tadashi in the fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Denial

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a standalone oneshot, but then I started planning out a series to extend it. Sorry, this is completely and utterly not happy. Still, I hope you like it.

Hiro doesn’t remember much about when his parents died. Really, he barely remembers his parents at all; too young to understand or even feel much of an attachment to them beyond instinctual love, the feeling of their hugs and the image of their faces is halfway erased in his mind, weathered from time.

There’s a series of bright lights in his memory which he thinks is the car crash that took his parents away, but even though he knows he had been in the car, it isn’t something he’s ever dwelled on because three year olds don’t understand death, they don’t understand the fact that someone can disappear in the blink of an eye, even though their bodies are still in sight.

Tadashi had known though; he'd known they were orphans, that their parents weren’t coming back, which is why for many weeks after the accident he constantly assured his little brother that he would never leave him, that he’d be around forever.

Hiro believed him. At three years old, and even well after, his brother was his entire world; why wouldn’t he be around forever? He’s saved him from bullies, from animals, from his own arrogance, and all the blows just seemed to bounce right off Tadashi like he was invincible. And in Hiro’s mind, his brother _was_ invincible.

At fourteen, that innocence is gone. Some part of his mind still thinks that Tadashi is immortal, that there’s no way he can die; but as he feels the heat on his skin, chokes on the smoke he can smell all too well, watches and hears his brother run farther and farther away, somewhere he can’t be reached, the rest of him knows that death is too close, breathing down their necks.

Then the building explodes.

His ears ring as he comes back into consciousness, not realizing he had been out in the first place. His first thought is _Nii-chan_ because even though he tells himself he’s outgrown the term of endearment, it’s still something he needs, because he still needs Tadashi and no, no, no, the memories are coming back and Tadashi was in there and he needs help; _someone needs to help_.

His brain races as he races forward, understanding that the likelihood of a second blast is slim, that Tadashi can’t have gotten that far in the time since he had let go of his hand— _oh god he let go of his hand_ —and even though the fire had reached close to the entrance there was still the possibility of finding his bod—

He barely stops himself from finishing the thought.

Hiro screams his brother’s name, ignores the way the heat settles heavily into his lungs, squints through the smoke to make out anything that might be Tadashi. He trips more than once, glass digging into his hands as he catches himself, painful reminders that this is his fault—he had let him go. What good were these hands if they couldn’t hold onto the most important things?

Everything is too bright, too hot, too painful as he searches. In the background he hears sirens but he’s too focused on the unmoving figure with dark hair lying a few feet away. He stumbles over a door in his haste to Tadashi’s side, eyes watering from smoke and fear.

The flames rage around them, but the blood from Tadashi’s wounds burns more, searing his hands as he puts them around the glass and metal embedded in him. He wants to take them away because it hurts so, so much; he doesn’t want to feel blood on his fingers, he wants to feel his brother’s heart beating, feel the rise and fall of his chest.

He doesn’t.

The firefighters find him bent over his brother, sobbing, half-conscious, trying desperately to wake him. He barely has the energy to resist as they pull him away, prying his hands from Tadashi as gently as they can. As he’s carried away in someone’s arms, the gears in his brain are still sluggishly turning, trying to process the image of burned clothes, burned hair, burned skin.

Then his mind is just blank. It doesn’t compute; it doesn’t _make sense_ , but the only conclusion he can make out through the smoke is something he can’t bear to admit to.

He refuses to think about it, ignores it, denies it. He returns to his friends, his family, and distantly he hears them speak to him, but between the ringing of his ears and the utter rejection of reality in his heart, it isn’t much of a conversation.

The haze clears for a second, and he feels death recede, its presence waning. With a broken sob, he realizes that death already got what it came for.


End file.
